The Diaries: 1/3/51
My mother’s diaries aren’t journals filled with outpourings of angst and joy; they are five year diaries, each about 5 x 6 inches with only four rows for writing per day. Five February 22s or April 14s or July 4s all on one page. There isn’t room for a lot more than events; but I remember much of the angst and joy.
She started keeping diaries in her early thirties in 1951 and continued until she died in 1999. For those of us who are arithmetic challenged, that’s 48 years of a life.
The oldest are loosing their gilt edges and gold stamping, but the forest green leather is still soft and supple; they feel rich in your hands. The bindings are mostly intact, as though the bookbinders from decades ago understood what it would take to withstand 1,826 entries, counting one leap year. Mom wrote in hers at night in bed, just before putting out the light. She used pencil in the early ones, but switched to pen after pen techs learned how to make them write with their pointy ends higher than their clicky ends.
My mother wanted to be buried with her diaries. I was horrified when I found out that was her plan. They are the story of my life, too, and I wanted to remember us all when we were young. They are so much more accurate than photo albums which record only the happy times. I told her that, if she left me nothing else, I wanted these books. I simply wore her down; she was, after all, old and sick. And in the end, I think she was pleased someone wanted them to remember. Who’d want to forget this:
January 3, 1951: Ironed today. Had a bad headache. Went to town in p.m. Bought a new lamp and Hopalong outfits for girls. I hit a dog on the way home. So sorry.
Viewpoint is everything. Mom never forgot that dog. But I remember the Hopalong Cassidy black vest with white embroidery. My cousin would play Topper, Hoppie’s wonder steed, holding a jump rope behind her back. I grabbed hold of these “reins” and we’d run like the wind.
I hope you will enjoy my mother’s diaries with me; I’ll do a post about them from time to time on the back nine.